A New Beginning
by CruelYouth
Summary: The anniversary of the Second Wizarding War takes place. Draco Malfoy wonders what will become of him, while Hermione plans out her future for the Magical Law Enforcement Department of the Ministry of Magic with Ron and Harry; ever the political activist. It's Ron/Hermione and barely Draco/Hermione if you squint. One-Shot.


**Disclaimer: ****I do not own any of the Harry Potter intellectual property or characters, which all belongs to the wonderful, JK Rowling. This work of fanfiction is intended to be transformational commentary on the original and purely for enjoyment. No profit is being made from this work.**  


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**A/N:** This was originally supposed to turn into a Dramione story, but I've been so busy with my Loki/Natasha fic and Vulpes/Courier one, I haven't had the chance to pick this one up. Maybe someday I will return to it. For me, Harry Potter will always have this really special place in my heart. :3

**Thank you for reading my story! As always, review!**

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Not a cloud loomed in the sunlit sky, even though a slight chill still lingered in the spring air, rustling the nearby dandelions that grew around the hedges. Hermione Granger watched as a large crowd of witches and wizards came streaming through the large front gate and onto the Hogwarts grounds, filing into the rows of seats that surrounded a large podium where Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall would soon give their speeches. Not far behind the podium stood a tall, lumpy object covered with black cloth, which she knew was the new monument the Ministry had erected in honor of the fallen.

The ceremony was about to begin, and Hermione scanned the crowd of attendees, looking for any sign of her friends. The setting triggered memories of Dumbledore's funeral at the end of sixth year. Soon, she caught sight of Neville Longbottom and his formidable grandmother, Hannah Abbott, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and his parents, and Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood sitting in a row of chairs near the front.

"Did you see the others yet?" Ginny asked, as she and Hermione took the available seats behind their friends.

Hermione shook her head.

"Doesn't look like they're here yet."

Ginny set her bag down on the chair to the left of her, saving it for Harry.

"I expect they'll be arriving soon," Luna said in her usual dreamy voice, turning around to face them. "I wonder what the statue is..."

The crowd continued to grow around them, as Hermione and Ginny scanned the ambling crowd for the telltale flaming red hair of the Weasleys. Ginny would occasionally wave at her friends from different Houses, like Michael Corner and Tracey Davis. This year had been different at Hogwarts; Slytherin no longer was the prejudiced, unscrupulous House it had come to be known as. This year, many of the Slytherins had appeared eager to put those preconceived notions to rest, and even become civil with the other three Houses. Hermione could not help but think of how proud it would have made Dumbledore to see Hogwarts now, with peaceful inter-House relations.

Hermione snapped out of her reverie when she felt the red-head tugging violently at her arm and looked to where she pointed at the far left.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione exclaimed, as she turned to see the kind-eyed witch hurrying towards them. Hermione rose to her feet, and was promptly pulled into a warm embrace.

"Hermione, it's so wonderful to see you, dear," Mrs. Weasley proclaimed, stepping back to grace her with a genuine smile. "How did your N.E.W.T.s go? All outstanding, I expect—"

"Like you need to ask," chimed in a familiar voice, and Hermione saw George Weasley arm in arm with Angelina Johnson. They waved and joined the rest of the family, squeezing into two of the closest seats in the row.

"Lovely to see you too, George," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Hi, Angelina," she greeted the witch who was now a chaser on Oliver Wood's Quidditch team, Puddlemere United.

"Hey, Hermione," Angelina said, smiling brightly. "How're your parents doing?"

"Much better, thanks. Mum and Dad would've come today, but don't really keep up too much with events in the Wizarding world."

"Yeah, right," she agreed in understanding.

"So..." Hermione began in a softer voice and arching one eyebrow. "You and George, huh? When did this occur?"

Angelina grinned.

"Not long after he offered me a job at the joke shop."

"That doesn't surprise me," Hermione replied, as Angelina laughed.

Hermione then turned and noticed the gathering troop of redheads behind her.

"Hello, Hermione!" Arthur Weasley said with a grin, and wrapped her into a tight hug. "I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed tea at your parents' house last weekend. Fascinating things those Commpoters—"

"Computers—"

"Yes, those! Amazing the inventions Muggles keep coming up with!"

"Hello, Percy, Charlie."

As Hermione shook hands with the male members of the Weasley family, Mrs. Weasley moved on to greet her daughter and the remainder of their friends, and soon the entire Weasley clan was sliding into the seats behind them, filling almost the entire row.

A very pregnant Fleur and Bill Weasley happily greeted Hermione and then sat down next to Percy and Charlie.

"Where are Ron and Harry—?" Mrs. Weasley asked, searching around, but then stopped, for at that very moment, Ron and Harry arrived, hurrying over to find seats with the rest of the stragglers.

"Hey!" Harry said in greeting, robes disheveled and slightly out of breath. "Sorry we're late. Auror training went a bit overtime."

"It's all right, I saved you a spot," Ginny reassured him, giving him a quick kiss and pulling him down into the empty seat next to her.

Ron went red and gave Hermione a gentle kiss on the cheek before sitting down next to her. He then turned to her and beamed.

"I've got something to tell you."

There was a rustling in the crowd of spectators as a procession of Hogwarts professors and high-ranking Ministry officials, led by Shacklebolt, began to make their way down the central aisle, heading towards the podium. Following this was the stirring of witches and wizards scrambling to find seats with their friends or family.

"Never mind," Ron muttered, as he gave her hand a squeeze. "I'll tell you later, okay?"

Hermione felt an enormous surge of relief at being spared from what would likely have been a very awkward conversation in front of their friends. She smoothed the hem of her black dress robes, as she waited for the ceremony to commence. Then, suddenly, a wave of whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire, and Hermione turned to see what the source of the commotion was.

There, making their way to two seats at the back of the assembly, were Draco Malfoy and his mother. Narcissa held her head high, feigning ignorance at the crowd's reaction to her entrance. Draco looked slightly less at ease than his mother, as he kept glimpsing down at his hands. He had grown significantly in the past year, leaving the diminishing traces of his childhood behind the previous year.

For just a moment, their eyes met, and Hermione felt as if there were a bezoar lodged in her throat. His face was an unreadable mask, a calm facade, but she could have sworn she saw it waver for just a second, hinting at emotions that vexed just beneath the surface. She was unsure why her palms were moist. Then Professor McGonagall stepped up to the podium to address the crowd, and Hermione gladly tore her gaze away from the Malfoys and focused on the ceremony.

It did not go smoothly, or without the re-opening of old wounds. The procession began with Professor McGonagall giving an impassioned speech rather similar to the one she had given at the start of the school year, in which she emphasized the importance of harmony and solidarity in the Wizarding community. Then, in a voice that quavered at times, she read off the names of those who had fought for the side of the Order and had met their untimely demise in the Second War against Voldemort. Hermione thought she'd had a grasp on the number of people who had died in the War, but it wasn't until that long list was read off that she realized the staggering volume of lives lost. It was hard for her to maintain composure when Professor McGonagall listed a name that she knew: Colin Creevey. When Fred Weasley's name was read off, she could hear Mrs. Weasley's small sob from the row behind her, and when Dobby's name was said, she saw Harry lower his head and blink rapidly. Nymphadora Tonks Lupin and Remus Lupin were almost too much for Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys to bear.

After all of the names had been pronounced, Shacklebolt took Professor McGonagall's place at the podium, and after one sober glance at the witches and wizards gathered before him, the crowd fell silent once more, waiting for him to speak.

"Good afternoon," he said in his rich baritone, which had been magically magnified with a Sonorus Charm. "We have all gathered here today to commemorate the anniversary of the end of the Wizarding War against Voldemort."

There was a slight ripple in the crowd, from those who still cringed at hearing the name spoken out loud.

"At this place, one year ago, fifty souls were lost. That does not include the hundreds of others, wizard, Muggle, Goblin, Centaur, and Elf alike, who were killed in the Death Eater attacks, raids, and interrogations that preceded the battle. No turning of the seasons can diminish the pain and the loss of that War. No passage of time and no dark skies can ever dull the meaning of this moment. And you may ask yourselves, what is the best way for us to honor them?"

Shacklebolt paused and gestured at the covered monument yet to be revealed behind him.

"This monument, as large and eloquent as it may be, is solely a memorandum. The best way for us to honor those who paid the ultimate sacrifice is by how we live our daily lives. It is not in how we shape the stone carvings of this monument, but in how we shape our history and future of the Wizarding World." He paused. "We remember with reverence the lives we lost. We read their names. We press their photos to our hearts. And on this day that marks their death, we recall the beauty and meaning of their lives."

With a wave of Shacklebolt's wand, the material covering the monument disappeared with the wind, and the sculpture was revealed. Hermione had not known what to expect – but she was pleasantly surprised. The monument was tall and breathtaking to behold, illustrating an intricately carved stone phoenix rising from flames. At the base of the statue, there was a smooth block of granite, in which were etched the names of those who had given their lives in the war. Staring at the phoenix's outstretched wings, Hermione could almost feel her spirit lift instantly.

"My friends," Shacklebolt continued, once the murmurs of approval had died down. "Today we stand at a turning point. We can choose to do as we had done before — to forget what these people have died for, to forget the lessons we learned on this battlefield. We can choose to regress, once more, into a society that labels witches and wizards according to their blood status and ostracizes those who are different from us. We can let Lord Voldemort's message live on, allowing it to consume our world in the flames of bigotry and hatred."

At this point everyone seemed to be leaning forward, hanging on Shacklebolt's words, and Hermione thought she could detect at least a few guilty-looking faces in the crowd.

"Or," said the Minister, "we can create a new world for our children, transcending definitions of blood status, and where the word 'Mudblood' will not exist except for on the pages of their History of Magic textbooks. That is not to say that we should forget where we have come from, because if we do, how can we learn from past mistakes? We must never forget the sacrifices that were made on this day, and many others, one year ago. We must never forget our past, for change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix. And like the phoenix, we will rise from these ashes and begin anew."

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Draco Malfoy stood beside his mother in the Great Hall, surrounded by familiar faces; some of which were Ministry officials. It had been rebuilt and decorated as though no harrowing battle had ever taken place. The Hall's bewitched ceiling was now showing some scattered clouds in the light blue sky. The tapestries on the walls were like new, and the four long tables had been pushed to the side and replaced with many rather sumptuous lounge chairs.

Since the time he and his mother had arrived at the memorial service, whispers and stares followed the Malfoys everywhere they went. The other attendees made no attempt to hide their disgust at Draco and Narcissa's presence at the ceremony, and the words "hypocrites" and "scum" fell from their lips with so little discretion, it was clear they wanted their disdain for them known.

They had certainly succeeded, although one would never know it by looking at Narcissa Malfoy. Draco couldn't help but admire the way his mother held her head high, facing the crowd's scorn with steely resolve. It wasn't until they had made their way to a quiet corner of the Great Hall that she finally spoke.

"The fools," she muttered, in a whisper only he could hear. "Why, not long ago, some of those same Ministry officials were clamoring for the same partisan politics they claim to be against."

Draco shrugged. He was rather indifferent to it all at this point.

"Times have changed, Mother."

"They have," she replied, darting a glance in her son's direction. "I notice something else has changed as well. Is it true — or perhaps I have simply imagined — that you and Hermione Granger have been on mildly pleasant terms as of late?"

Draco gritted his teeth, but before he could issue a response, his mother's attention suddenly strayed elsewhere. Her eyes widened as she stared at someone standing on the other side of the Hall. Draco turned to follow her gaze and his eyes came to rest on a tall, dark-haired woman who was talking to the Weasleys while carrying a baby on her hip. At first, his attention was captured by the child's vivid, turquoise hair, but then he looked more closely at the woman who was holding him.

For the briefest moment, Draco thought his Aunt Bellatrix had returned from the grave, and his heart nearly leaped out of his chest at the thought. Upon further inspection, however, he realized that the woman was not Bellatrix at all, though she did bear a striking resemblance. Her curly hair was a shade lighter, and pulled up in an elegant chignon. She possessed the same austere beauty, but where Bellatrix's face was contorted and sallow from years spent in Azkaban, this woman's face was soft, kind, and rosy-cheeked. Her resemblance to Bellatrix, in combination with his mother's startled response to seeing her, all but confirmed her identity for Draco: She could be none other than his mother's sister, his aunt, Andromeda Tonks.

"Mother?" Draco murmured. "Is that...who I think it is?"

Before Narcissa could reply, Andromeda seemed to sense their stares, and she turned to face them, her own eyes widening with surprise and recognition. For a moment, the two women stared at each other from across the room, the air between them wrought with tension. Then, suddenly, his mother turned around, tugging her son's arm in order to lead him away from the scene.

"I think it is time for me to leave," she said in a shaky voice that mirrored the conflicting emotions Draco saw in her eyes.

"But, Mother, don't you think—?"

"Draco," she snapped. Then, at the sight of his concerned expression, her face softened somewhat. "I'm so sorry, dear. It was just...unexpected. I guess I'm still a bit shaken. Would you mind if we left a bit early?"

Draco hesitated, still startled by his mother's behavior. The last time he had seen her act this unsettled had been in the presence of Lord Voldemort himself, but now she appeared anxious and upset. He knew that she'd been estranged from Andromeda for many years, partially due to her early marriage to Lucius who had never failed to reinforce those pure-blood values, but Draco hadn't expected her to have this strong of a reaction to seeing her sister in person once more. It aroused some of that new-found compassion within him, causing his previous ambivalence to fade into the background.

"Yeah, it's all right, Mother," he agreed. "Let's go."

They walked silently toward the large oak doors that would lead them outside of Hogwarts.

"Kingsley's offering me a position in the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures," Draco could overhear Granger saying to Potter and Weasley as he passed them through the Hall. "I mean, this is wonderful! It's finally my chance to take S.P.E.W. to a judicial level! Perhaps I can even go on to eliminating vampire and werewolf prejudice, don't you think?"

"Isn't it ironic?" Potter laughed. "We'll all be working for the Ministry!"

_Of course... They've been offered cushy positions at the Ministry_, Draco could not help but think bitterly. _Wonder what's left for me._..

"Yeah," Weasley agreed. "We'll be together, you, me and Harry, running amok at the Ministry. It'll be just like old times."

Draco's eyes fell once more on Potter. Again he was brought back to that awkward feeling between Potter and himself; he had saved Draco's life — twice — during the Battle of Hogwarts. And Draco's mother had saved Harry from Voldemort. Potter had even testified on Draco's behalf saving him a severe sentence for his crimes in sixth year. Those were things — huge things — that would always keep some kind of unspoken bond between them.

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The quote, "change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix" is from Christina Baldwin.


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